


Parent/Teacher Night

by ru17



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Classroom Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Objectification, Parent Tony Stark, Parent/Child Incest, Public Sex, Sex Toys, Statutory Rape, Teacher Quentin Beck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23452312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ru17/pseuds/ru17
Summary: Peter never really used to care about his parent-teacher conferences.But tonight would be different.Because this year, Peter’s homeroom teacher was Mr. Beck.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 13
Kudos: 561





	Parent/Teacher Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [curadhstark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curadhstark/gifts).



“I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight, Peter.”

Their car came to a silent stop as his dad pulled into a parking stall. Peter stared up at the illuminated windows of his school, looming over them like a mountain. He didn’t reply as he undid his seatbelt - his dad had already given him the same lecture twice since they left home, and at this point, Peter didn’t know what else he was expected to say.

“Hello? Am I alone in the car?”

Resisting the urge to sigh, Peter obediently turned to face his father and said, “No, sir.”

“Really? Then why am I getting the silent treatment over here?”

Peter’s cheeks flushed in anger. He curled his fists against his thighs, defensive. “I already promised you two times that I’d behave tonight.”

“And then you followed it by immediately breaking one of your rules. The simplest, in fact.” His dad lowered his sunglasses and pinned him with a flat look, looking marginally unimpressed. “You answer me when I’m talking to you. Doesn’t matter how many times I’ve repeated myself. Are we clear?”

“...Yes, sir.”

“Good. So, one more time: I expect you to be on your _best_ behavior tonight. Do you understand me?”

Peter swallowed nervously as his dad’s gaze bore into him. How he always managed to make him feel so feeble with only a glance, Peter would never know. He nodded quickly and said, “Yes, Daddy, I understand,” and felt the anxiety loosen in his chest somewhat when his dad’s face softened into a smile.

“That’s my boy. Come on, we’d better hurry inside. We don’t want to keep Mr. Beck waiting.”

—

Peter never really used to care about his parent-teacher conferences.

His dad always came, which was nice. Every year he made the effort to meet Peter’s teachers and make sure his son was doing well, and Peter appreciated that. Not all of his classmates had parents who were as...doting, and attentive as Tony was.

But conference night was never really a big deal. Mostly because Peter was a model student. He didn’t cause trouble, he didn’t slack off or misbehave in class or fight with any of his fellow students. He excelled in all his courses, and his teachers all liked him, so parent-teacher night was incredibly boring, more than anything. Just a quick in-and-out meeting with his homeroom teacher so they could say, “Mr. Stark, your son is an upstanding student and we have no complaints.” And then his dad would shake their hand, maybe ask a question or two, and they’d be on their way.

But tonight would be different.

Because this year, Peter’s homeroom teacher was Mr. Beck.

Of course, Peter’s student life hadn’t changed - he was still his usual, overachieving self - but now, instead of a quick, impersonal meeting, he was sure his dad had something else planned, because Mr. Beck wasn’t just Peter’s homeroom teacher.

He was also his dad’s boyfriend.

The hallways were ghostly empty as he followed his dad into his classroom. Mr. Beck had scheduled their conference to be the last one of the night, and that was Peter’s first hint that tonight’s meeting wasn’t going to be anywhere near normal. It was pitch-black outside, and the janitors were already starting to clean the floors by the time they stepped foot into Peter’s classroom.

Mr. Beck was waiting for them at his desk, just as dressed-up as his dad was, both in suits and ties, like they wouldn’t all be at home together in a few hours, sitting around in their pajamas, at the most.

“You’re late,” Mr. Beck said when they entered, but he was sort of smirking, too. “Close the door, Peter, would you?”

“So sorry we kept you waiting,” his dad fake-drawled, taking a seat in the desk directly opposite Mr. Beck’s, lounging until he got comfortable. “It took some coaxing to get Peter into the car. I think he’s feeling a little nervous about his performance review.”

Mr. Beck grinned. Peter’s whole face went red-hot. Neither of them were even _looking_ at him. He took the seat beside his dad and slouched low in his chair, excited-scared about what was going to happen next.

“That’s understandable,” Mr. Beck said gently. “Just like taking a puppy to the vet - it’s tough to explain that you’re actually doing what’s best for them.”

“Mm. Mostly, I think he knows that you’re not going to give him the glowing commendation he’s used to getting at these meetings. I understand there’s been a few... _incidents_ this year.”

A shiver went down Peter’s spine when Mr. Beck glanced at him. Beyond that, neither man paid him any mind.

“Well, Mr. Stark, as always, Peter’s schoolwork is impeccable. I am, however, a little concerned about his behavior these last couple of months.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw his dad reach into the inside pocket of his suit jacket to put his sunglasses away. He waited for his hand to pull back, but it didn’t. Peter’s whole body tensed in anticipation.

“He’s been having a little trouble... _focusing_ in class. He’s been surly and short-tempered - quite normal for a boy his age, really - but you know I don’t appreciate back-talk in my classroom.”

“Nor do I, Quentin, I assure you,” his dad said. “In fact, Peter and I _just_ had a conversation about that on our way here - he knows his rules, and being polite to his superiors, _always,_ is one of them.”

Mr. Beck’s fingers drummed along the top of his desk, idly toying with the flat edge of a three-foot ruler. “Truthfully, Mr. Stark, the biggest issue I’m having with him right now is that he’s completely distracted during class.”

Peter barely stopped himself from laughing out loud. _Distracted?_ Really? And whose fault was that?

His dad made a thoughtful noise, which was the only warning Peter got before a gentle _click_ echoed through the room. The vibrations started immediately - not on a very high setting, but high enough to make Peter lurch in his seat, bruising his knee when it collided with the leg of the desk. He moaned, low and loud as the plug inside him buzzed against his prostate, torturing it more than the car ride here already had.

“Do you see what I mean?” Mr. Beck was saying, talking to his dad like Peter wasn’t even in the room. “I just can’t seem to get him to pay attention. He’s always focused on something _else._ ”

Peter wanted to say it wasn’t his fault, they both knew it wasn’t. But his dad told him to be good, and that meant waiting to find out what they wanted him to do. Apparently, all they wanted him to do right now was sit there, writhing on the toy his dad slipped inside him before they left, letting them ignore him and talk about him like he wasn’t in the room.

“Well, boys his age are only ever really thinking about one thing. I’m sure you’ve encountered that before.”

Mr. Beck laughed. “Oh, yes. The dreaded teenage hormones. In my experience, boys Peter’s age are usually much better behaved after they’ve...had a little release.”

His dad was smirking, eyes dark and wicked, and the sight of it only made Peter writhe harder in his desk. They had only just started, and his cock already hurt, the inside of his boxers already soaked from how much precome he was leaking inside of them.

“What would you recommend, Quentin? I’m all ears. I want to ensure Peter is on his best behavior for you, after all. If you have any suggestions on how to improve his concentration, I’d be willing to give them a try.”

God, Peter wished they would stop smirking at each other like that. This whole thing was such a farce. He didn’t have trouble controlling his hormones any more than any other kid in his school did, and they both knew it. He’d never had a problem _concentrating_ in class before.

Not until his dad met Mr. Beck.

The plug inside of him was mercilessly thrumming against his prostate, and it was making Peter’s stomach clench. He could already feel sweat dripping down his brow, over his temples and into his hair. Fuck, his cock _hurt._ How much longer were they going to mess around and pretend this was a regular parent-teacher meeting? What the hell was the point of this stupid game?

Mr. Beck glanced at him, his smile perfectly prudent and approachable, his eyes much less so. “I think, Mr. Stark, Peter here should be taught to relieve himself of this hormonal burden _before_ class, every day. He may need your help with that, and of course, I’m more than willing to pitch in as needed, since it is _my_ idea.”

Peter whimpered under both men’s scalding gazes, unable to stop himself from rolling his hips in his seat, rocking back against the damned plug happily buzzing away inside of him.

“Failing that, if Peter can’t get himself under control, I’m afraid disciplinary measures may be required. Caning is generally frowned upon these days, but I still find the best way to get control of an unruly student is to have him bend over my desk and count each swat. He ends up spending the rest of the day sitting on a sore, bruised ass, and that helps keep him focused.”

His dad’s eyes were so dark, they looked like black holes, endless and abyssal and all-consuming. “Knowing my son, he would be very... _receptive_ to that kind of punishment. He never did take his spankings well. Poor thing, I had to bend him over my knee the other day and he was just a wreck. Made quite the mess.”

Mr. Beck laughed, out of character, and Peter wanted to die. Mr. Beck _knew_ about that spanking, he was _there_ for it. It wasn’t Peter’s fault his body reacted to it - his dad wanted it to, he did it on purpose. Peter knew that. He _knew_ it.

So why the hell was he so damn humiliated?

His dad once again reached into his jacket pocket, and Peter didn’t get the chance to tense up this time before the remote was clicked again. He whined, loud and high and needy as the vibrations sped up, too fast, way too intense as the plug pummelled against his sweet spot from the inside. Peter jerked against the desk’s tabletop and cried out, feeling his cock twitch valiantly in his jeans, leaking copiously inside his boxers. It hurt. It was too much. “Daddy - ”

“Peter, you’re being very rude,” his dad chastised him, glaring at him disingenuously through narrowed eyes. “The adults are talking. Sit still and be quiet.”

Mr. Beck chuckled. “Do you see what I have to deal with during class, Mr. Stark? It’s like he just can’t help himself. You and I might need to get creative in teaching him some self-control.”

Peter pressed his forehead to the cool desktop and bit into the meat of his fist to keep himself quiet. He was going to come. Would his dad be mad at him if he did? He was told to always ask first, but they clearly wanted him to be silent. Would they be angrier at him for interrupting, or for coming without permission? How the hell was Peter supposed to know? It wasn’t _fair._

Fuck it, he was about to lose his freaking mind. Punishment be damned. “Daddy, please, I’m - ”

“Quentin, how do you normally deal with disobedient students who refuse to stop talking during class?”

Flinching, Peter went stock-still with a nervous gulp. That tone was a bad sign. Peter knew that tone - it was the one his dad only used when there was hell to pay.

“Normally?” Mr. Beck asked, reclining in his chair, arms tucked behind his head. “Well, my _regular_ students either get sent to the principal’s office, or after-school detention, or both.” He glanced at Peter indifferently, then back to his dad. “For a dirty little come-slut like Peter, though? I think the best solution is to find another use for that noisy little mouth.”

_Holy shit._

His dad made a contemplative sound, thinking it over like this whole fucking thing wasn’t strategically rehearsed on their part. “I do like the sound of that,” he said at last, and snapped his fingers loudly, making Peter shoot up a little too fast in his chair. “Peter. Since you can’t keep yourself quiet like a good boy, why don’t you make yourself useful and crawl under Mr. Beck’s desk.”

Whimpering, Peter slunk out of his desk and down to his knees, hanging his head in humiliation as he crawled the few feet forward until he reached Mr. Beck’s desk. The man rolled his chair back to give him access, and Peter obediently slipped underneath, immediately bracketed in by the older man’s thick thighs. Mr. Beck was hard in his slacks - it was all Peter could smell trapped in the small space.

He didn’t waste time reaching up and undoing the man’s belt, pulling open his pants to free his hard cock. Mr. Beck quickly adjusted himself, momentarily shooing Peter’s hands away to pull his balls free too, which he then cupped, an offering Peter knew he couldn’t dare refuse.

Mr. Beck always preferred it when Peter played with his balls instead, so he wasn’t surprised. He nervously wet his lips and sunk low on his knees, bringing his face close enough to lick a warm stripe up the middle of the man’s sac. Mr. Beck hummed in warm pleasure, and Peter set to work on the job he’d been given to do, letting his dad’s and Mr. Beck’s voices fade to background noise as they continued to chat.

He didn’t mind sucking Mr. Beck’s balls, not really. It was humiliating, even after so many times, but it was also...good. He didn’t really get why. He liked that he was able to make Mr. Beck feel good. He liked that he was useful, that he still fit in his dad’s life, even after Mr. Beck came along. He liked the way Mr. Beck’s voice lowered to a growl as the pleasured built up, and liked how long it took to get to that point. When his dad let him, Mr. Beck would make Peter do this for _hours,_ trapped on his knees between the man’s spread legs and gently sucking his balls into his mouth until his whole body hurt.

It didn’t seem like he’d get away with that today. Mr. Beck’s cock was already leaking precome all the way down his shaft - Peter kept having to pull away from his balls to lick the mess up so it wouldn’t drip all over his face. He could tell Mr. Beck was close, but he knew what he was expected to do, what Mr. Beck liked. So he just kept sucking. He worshipped the man’s balls with his lips and tongue, alternating between them, sucking one gently and then the other.

It was harder to concentrate than normal, because the plug was still incessantly vibrating inside of him, hammering against his prostate without pause. Peter tried his best to ignore the way it was thrumming deep inside his body, how wet his cock felt trapped inside of his jeans, how much it ached. He tried. He really, really did.

But then his dad clicked the plug onto a higher setting. The sudden jolt of that made Peter cry out, his mouth stuffed full of Mr. Beck’s balls, which hindered the sound. Mr. Beck groaned, wrapping a quick hand around his cock to stroke himself through his orgasm. Peter dutifully stayed where he was, softly lavishing the man’s sac with his tongue as he shot ropes of white come all over his suit.

“Fuck,” Mr. Beck hissed above him. Peter heard his dad chuckle, and then Mr. Beck’s chair was rolling back, a hand fisting his hair to guide him forwards on his knees. Peter winced as the classroom’s ceiling lights momentarily blinded him, before he found himself being pressed against something warm, damp and sticky.

“Wh-wha - ”

“You don’t mind, do you, Tony?” Mr. Beck asked, breathless. Peter whimpered as the grip in his hair tightened, grinding his face against the wet come soaking the front of Mr. Beck’s suit. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything else to clean this up with.”

“Be my guest, Quentin, my dear,” his dad replied, the wide smile audible in his tone. “No reason to stain a perfectly good suit.”

“No, there isn’t.”

Peter tried to go lax in the man’s grasp as he was manhandled. He was pressed and dragged across the solid weight of Mr. Beck’s body as his face was used to wipe up the mess. The man’s come clung to his skin, sticky and thick, catching on Peter’s lips despite how tightly he pressed them together. This was beyond humiliating. Mr. Beck was treating him like...like a…

_Like a come-rag._

God, why did that make his cock twitch? He was so messed up.

“Open your mouth,” Mr. Beck ordered, and Peter whimpered and obeyed. He knew what the man wanted, so he shyly let his tongue push past his lips to catch the remaining streaks of come painting his suit. Mr. Beck stroked his head in response, and Peter hated that a wave of contentedness rolled through him, so fucking grateful for having pleased the older man.

“Such a good boy,” Mr. Beck cooed. He gently pet Peter’s head and toyed with his hair as Peter sucked the remaining splashes of come from the fabric of his suit, like he was starving for it. “Maybe you don’t need the cane after all, hm? Is this what you’ve been missing, Peter? Do I need to put you on your knees before every class so you can worship my balls like the greedy little cockslut you are?”

 _Fuck,_ if Mr. Beck kept talking like that, Peter was going to come in his pants without any warning. His mouth made a loud, wet _pop_ sound as he pulled back from sucking Mr. Beck’s suit jacket clean, leaving it damp with spit, but free of any white streaks. His cock hurt so _bad._ Surely they had to let him come soon, right? If this went on any longer, Peter was pretty sure he was going to become impotent.

“Peter,” his dad called, a clear threat in his tone. “Your teacher asked you a question.”

“I - I’d like that, sir,” Peter mumbled, embarrassed to speak any louder than that. Christ. In his own fucking _classroom._ How could they expect him to be able to ever learn anything in this room again after this?

“I bet you would, baby.” Mr. Beck gripped him by the chin and tilted his face up, giving him a gentle smile before he leaned down and kissed him. “Is your hole ready for me, Peter?”

God. _Finally._ Peter nodded, so fucking ready to get this damn plug out of him. There was enough lube - and his dad’s come, still deep inside him from earlier - that he wouldn’t need any prep to take Mr. Beck now. He was ready. He wanted this vibrating toy out of his body, and he wanted to come, and then he wanted to go home.

“Yes, sir,” he answered sweetly, trying not to seem too eager, “ ‘m ready for your cock. Please.”

He heard his dad curse under his breath behind him, but all he could focus on was Mr. Beck’s blinding smile. “Such a good boy,” Mr. Beck praised, and kissed him again. “C’mon, sweetheart. Up, strip down and get over the desk. Show me how ready your little boy cunt is for my cock.”

Peter stood on shaky legs, his hands trembling as he quickly disrobed. When he had nothing left but his socks and shoes, he turned, bent at the waist, and laid himself flat against the top of Mr. Beck’s desk. His dad was practically eye-level with him, like this, watching him so hungrily it made his dick twitch. “Daddy,” Peter whimpered, reaching behind himself to take a cheek in each hand and spread them, revealing his hole to his teacher’s greedy gaze. “Daddy. _Please._ ”

His dad held his gaze, and smirked.

Then clicked the remote for the plug again.

Peter almost tipped the desk, he jerked so hard. The men both laughed at him - at the loud, pleading sound he made as his prostate was assaulted. If there was anyone left in this building, they definitely heard him, just now. Peter practically _screamed_ as the plug shook inside of him, so hard it felt like he’d been carved out from the inside. “F-fuuu-hu- _hhhngh,_ Daddy, _Daddy please_ \- ”

“Easy, sweetheart,” Mr. Beck said, leaning over him and kissing gently between his shoulder blades. “You’re not allowed to come in here, you needy little thing. You’ll get your classmates’ schoolwork all dirty. If you make a mess, you’re gonna regret it, you hear me?”

“B- But I - please, M-Mr. Beck, I - I c-can’t - ”

“You come when we get home,” his dad said slowly, no room for argument, “or you don’t come for the next _week._ Your choice, Peter.”

Sobbing, Peter dropped his head onto the desk, feeling like his whole body was on fire. How the hell did they expect him to keep it together? His prostate was being fucking _milked,_ and they weren’t even done yet!

“Baby. Look at me.”

Peter lifted his head to look his dad in the eyes, his whole body trembling. His dad’s face softened, and with a gentle smile, he mercifully clicked the remote to shut the vibrations off, allowing Peter’s entire body to turn boneless with relief. Peter sobbed, letting the desk take almost all his weight, keeping his ass spread the way Mr. Beck liked, praying they took the damn plug out of him soon.

“Keep those puppy-dog eyes on me, sweetheart,” his dad said, softly, but Peter knew an order when he heard one. Mr. Beck kissed a line down the small of his back, and gently eased the plug out of his abused hole. “I wanna watch that pretty little face while Mr. Beck breeds you like a bitch in heat.”

“Daddy - ” he sobbed, wanting to hide his face when Mr. Beck possessively grabbed his skinny hips, but not daring to disobey his father. “Hhhn, hmmgh - _Daddy -_ ”

The wide, wet tip of Mr. Beck’s dick was gently pressing against the back of his thigh, tantalizingly close to nudging against his balls. Peter forced himself to hold still, burning under his dad’s intense gaze as his hands trembled on the cheeks of his ass, keeping himself spread open and ready for Mr. Beck to fuck him.

It still surprised him when the man finally pressed inside. Peter moaned, loud and wrecked as Mr. Beck fed his dick deeper inside of him, inch by inch. It felt good. It was too much, way too much. But it felt right, it felt like it was supposed to be there. It felt like some great, empty well inside of him had finally been filled. This, right here, made sense. This was safe. He knew this, he understood it. How to hold still and let his Daddy and Mr. Beck use him. How to be a good boy. It shouldn’t have settled the torrential anxiety that was constantly raging in his stomach, but it did.

It was wrong. But Peter never wanted it to stop.

He watched as a wide, pleased smile stretched across his dad’s face, and only then did he realize how loud he was being. “That feel good, baby?” he taunted him, reclining in his chair. “Does Mr. Beck’s big cock feel good inside your hungry little fuckhole?”

Mr. Beck lightly nipped at the side of his neck, and Peter shuddered, rocking his hips to gain a little more speed on the man’s thrusts. “Feels - good,” he choked out, breathless from how deep Mr. Beck’s cock was reaching inside of him. “Feels so good, Daddy, love it, love it when you fuck me, love being your little toy. Wanna be good. Wanna be good and please you, want you to use me like your f-fleshlight, want you to come in me over and over - ha, _ahhh,_ Daddy, please - ”

Mr. Beck started fucking him harder, biting almost viciously into his neck as he rode his ass. Peter tried to ride each thrust, but he was no match for the other man in strength or size, so he was helpless to do anything but be pinned against the desk and let Mr. Beck fuck him into the flat surface. He wanted to come. He wanted to come so, so badly, he couldn’t see through the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Look at him, Quentin, poor thing can hardly talk. You haven’t even finished one round and you’ve already fucked him cockstupid.”

Laughing, Mr. Beck pulled Peter’s head back by his hair, baring his throat, and lovingly kissed his cheek. “Please, Tony. This little comedump was cockstupid long before I came along. He’s always been a Daddy’s boy. Haven’t you, Pete?”

“Mm - mmm, I - ‘m Daddy’s b-boy - ”

“You’re Daddy’s dirty little slut,” his dad chuckled, correcting him. “Made just to be my happy little cocksleeve. You should be grateful I’m generous enough to let others play with you, Peter.”

“Am - I am, Daddy, I’m - thank - thank you - ”

“Look at you,” Mr. Beck cooed. He was so big, wrapped around Peter, holding him down and fucking him. Peter felt like he was being fucked to death. Like if the man went any harder, he’d break down into nothing. “So sweet when you’re being fucked. So pliant. You’d do anything for Daddy to let you come, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Anything, please Daddy, please - ”

His dad’s smile was...there was no other word for it, it was _cruel._ “No, baby, not yet. Daddy likes you this way. Desperate and begging. It’s just how you were supposed to be.” He abruptly stood from the desk - Peter’s neck craned as far as it could go in an attempt to maintain eye contact as his dad sauntered over to them. “I think I want to keep you like this always. Just on the edge of coming, when you’ll do absolutely anything I say without question. When you’re so overstimulated but still gagging for how badly you need someone’s cock. This is who you are, baby, and I think you should learn to embrace it. Don’t you agree?”

_No, no no no no, I can’t, not all the time, not without release, I can’t, Dad - Dad, please -_

“- Yes, Daddy,” Peter gasped, mouth falling open on a moan as Mr. Beck crushed their hips together and came inside of him, stuffing his sloppy hole to the brim with come. “Please, Daddy, I want it. Want that.”

Chuckling, his dad gently cupped his cheek, leaned down and kissed him. Mr. Beck was crushing him against the desk, both of their chests heaving from the force of the man’s thrusts.

“Such a good toy for me,” his dad said, thumbing away the tears running down Peter’s cheeks. “You ready to go home now, baby?”

Peter could only nod. His dad stood back up, and Peter suddenly found himself eye-level with the large bulge in his dad’s pants. His mouth watered. Peter whined and reached for him, wrapping his arms around his dad’s hips so he could nuzzle his face against the large, clothed cock that was trapped underneath all those layers, just waiting for him.

His dad’s hand pet through his hair, and Peter sighed, utterly content.

“We can take my car,” his Daddy said to Mr. Beck. “You drive. I’m going to sit in the back and let my baby boy warm my cock on the way home. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

Peter mouthed at his dad’s cock through his slacks, squeezed around Mr. Beck’s dick still gently twitching inside of him, and felt his own cock drip another wet glob of precome onto his classmates’ schoolwork on the desk beneath them.

“Yes, Daddy.”


End file.
